


Play For Me

by TryingToMystrade (TryingToScribble)



Series: TTM Prompts [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Barely there music knowledge, Greg plays guitar, I taught myself to play guitar, M/M, Mycroft plays piano, REALLY BADLY, so don't expect all that much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:38:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/pseuds/TryingToMystrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg didn't know Mycroft could play the piano. Now it really did explain why Mycroft had wanted him to bring his old beat up guitar round.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play For Me

“I had no idea you could play.” Greg voiced with amazement. “I mean, I assumed you could play some sort of instrument with Sherlock having the violin and all but… Wow, My.”

Greg and Mycroft were seated at a grand piano in a private music room in the politician’s home. Mycroft had neglected to tell Greg where they were going in the great maze of a house until Greg’s breath was leaving him in an impressed whistle. The only instruction he had been given along with his invitation to the house was to bring his guitar. The why was all clear now.

Mycroft nodded but kept his head down, watching the keys even though he had stopped playing. “If you can believe it, we were civil enough to enjoy lessons together as children.” He sniffed his distaste as he added, “He always seemed to be the better at it.”

Chuckling, Greg leaned into the other man’s side. “And I can guess that was the only thing you let him be better at.” He rested his chin on Mycroft’s shoulder so he could lower his voice in what he hoped was a light seductive manner. “I’ve seen your deductive skills at work, Mr. Holmes.”

The unruly curl of hair that usually hung across Mycroft’s forehead fell to hide his eyes as he ducked his head to smile. Greg couldn’t stop himself from pressing his lips in a quick, chaste kiss at the newly exposed neck.

In answer, Mycroft hummed. “I would love to hear you play.” He said almost shyly.

“You do realise that before you asked for its presence, my guitar was propped up in the back of the cubby hole for over five years, right?” But even as he said it, Greg stood and moved to get the instrument from its case.

Of course Mycroft knew that. As they had just said, Mycroft was smarter than the Only Consulting Detective himself and as Mycroft liked to say, “Who do you think taught him?”

The government official just turned to watch and admire Greg’s figure from behind. “I am sure you still play magnificently, Gregory.” He assured the man.

Greg sat back down but on another stool, waving off Mycroft’s compliments. It was a slightly higher stool and it had a rung around the bottom where he could rest his foot, his knee raised as a rest for the body of the guitar.

He leaned over the neck to make sure his fingers on the correct strings and frets of a barely remembered G chord. He strummed the strings and both men winced a little at the awful noise that resonated from it.

“The old girl needs a bit of a tuning. Could you give me an E please, My?”

Mycroft nodded dutifully and pushed his index finger against the appropriate note. Once the top E string was corrected and in tune with the piano, Greg muddled through and was able to tune the others by ear too.

“There we go.” Greg smiled brightly as he played a much better sounding G chord. “Much better. Can’t be that rusty, after all, can I?” Then he continued to play a series of chords, his fingers haltingly finding the right positions while he got his bearings back. Even as he went through the chord patterns his muscle memory began to kick in once more and he settled on a steady rhythm of an easy G, D, Em, C.

Greg couldn’t remember the words to the song he was attempting to play and so he hummed a close approximation of the melody.

Mycroft watched in fascination as the silver haired man forgot where he was, closing his eyes and getting lost in the music. He had no idea that he now held the exact same expression of admiration and pride that his Gregory held just minutes earlier for him.

When the gentle improvised notes of the piano joined seamlessly with the guitar’s strumming, Greg’s eyes instantly shot up to see where it came from. Mycroft was simply smiling at the man from the side as his fingers danced over the keys expertly. Greg’s lips twitched to join it. Neither of them allowed their eyes to leave the gaze of the other but neither did the music stop leading a beautiful serenade about them.


End file.
